


This Side of Paradise

by karasunovolleygays



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Boys Are Dumb, Friends to Lovers, M/M, With a dash of Found Family, long distance friendships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:01:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26571097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karasunovolleygays/pseuds/karasunovolleygays
Summary: Ushijima's fated run-in with Iwaizumi in California changed more than just his spiking form. Even when he was back across the ocean, his thoughts meandered back to his father's house in Irvine, to the man who rooted himself in Ushijima's heart as a fast friend and maybe something more. That, Ushijima could deal with.It wasn't until he came back for a visit a couple of years later that it got a lot more complicated, and he wasn't sure how or how long he could hide his feelings from Iwaizumi or his too-observant father.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Ushijima Wakatoshi
Comments: 8
Kudos: 69
Collections: Haikyuu Rarepair Exchange 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xoratari](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xoratari/gifts).



> Ahhh, I hope you don't mind an accidental mini-novel but I no longer have any control here. x.x

As soon as he entered the airport, Ushijima immediately missed the tangy Southern California air. Instead, this environment was sterile and smelled faintly of metal.

He wasn’t about to consider that the salty breeze wasn’t the only thing he regretted leaving behind. 

The line through security was interminable, but once he got through to the gate, he sent a text to the two people who would actually want to know. _I’m at the gate,_ he messages both his father and Iwaizumi Hajime, the fastest friend he had ever made.

It had been a charmed sequence of events. Both he and Iwaizumi just happened to be looking for the same person at the same time in the same place on the other side of the world. The odds of that were astronomical in themselves. He didn’t care to calculate the chances of it happening with two former rivals, one of whom had held the other in little regard. 

However, once the words started flowing and they began to find more similarities than differences between them, Ushijima could scarcely believe it had only been a year since he had formed the ill-conceived opinion that this man was anything remotely resembling ‘weak’. 

One week, which had seemed so long at first in a country full of a language he could just barely understand, raced by until it was time to say goodbye to Iwaizumi. 

He hadn’t expected it to be this hard.

Settled on one of the stiff, uncomfortable chairs waiting for his flight, Ushijima pulled out his phone and clicked the home button. The lock screen lit up, revealing a snapshot of he and Iwaizumi at one of the Los Angeles area’s warm, glittering beaches. They were both smiling, and Iwaizumi was sporting a hint of a mustache made of the ice cream they had just wolfed down minutes before.

Ushijima put his phone back into his pocket and opted to stare out into the bustling terminal instead.

Soon his flight boarded, and the whirlwind week of communion with someone who could only be described as remarkable was officially over.

He more or less succeeded in sleeping through most of the thirteen hour flight, rather than dwell on the fact that for the first time in his life, he didn’t want to go back to volleyball. What he wanted was ever shrinking behind him. 

Back in Tokyo, Ushijima arrived at the airport with nobody waiting for him, so he dragged his suitcase out to the curb and took a taxi to the national team training facility for the start of an excruciating climb back into the good graces of his teammates.

Lying in the bunk that was nothing like the extra bedroom in his father’s spacious house, Ushijima tried to filter out the sound of some of the other three inhabitants’ loud breathing while they slept. He was going to be awake for a while, with the large time difference wreaking havoc on his sleeping patterns.

Instead, he pulled out his phone and sent a simple text. _I already miss being there_. 

It was morning in California, so Iwaizumi’s response was almost immediate. _Yeah? I miss being there, too, but we’re both where we need to be. We don’t have to be strangers, though._

Iwaizumi was correct, of course. Ushijima’s dream was to climb to the highest stage and win there, and Iwaizumi’s was to be on the sidelines helping him and his comrades accomplish that goal. The route they needed to take to get there did not intersect until a long way down the road — and that journey had barely started.

  
  


Life drifted slowly back to normal, and fueled by Iwaizumi’s advice on his swing, Ushijima didn’t need much time to regain and exceed his old standard. It even earned him a spot on the Olympic roster two years later.

The first person he called was Iwaizumi.

It was a little later than Iwaizumi liked staying up, but he answered the phone after the first ring. “So how’d it go?” he asked without preamble.

“I made it.” Ushijima didn’t need to tell Iwaizumi what it was about. Their long string of texts over the course of tryouts week kept him well informed of what was at stake. “The starting roster isn’t set yet, but I think I might make that, too.”

Iwaizumi’s grin was audible. “Dude, that’s awesome! I’ve been watching the video you’re sending, and the new form really seems like second nature to you now. It’s kinda scary how good you really are.”

Despite being alone in an ill-used hallway in the training facility one in the morning, Ushijima blushed at the praise. At school and on court, it wasn’t uncommon for him to be adulated. Iwaizumi’s compliments were different. 

They were different because his relationship with Iwaizumi wasn’t like anything he had with anyone else before.

“Thank you,” he managed, the words dull compared to the way his heart beat a little faster. “For everything.”

Chortling, Iwaizumi said, “Nah, man, you did it all on your own. The only thing I did was give a suggestion. I’m not taking credit for your hard work.”

“As you wish,” Ushijima relented. “Then I thank you for your support.”

“Now that’s credit I’m willing to take.” Iwaizumi yawned loudly into the phone. “Your dad says hi, by the way. He tried staying up, but he just ended up crashing on the couch. I made him go to bed a couple of hours ago.”

The words brought a smile to Ushijima’s lips. “Thank you for looking out for him. He needs someone to harass him when he stays up past midnight playing online poker.”

“Ha! I might be stubborn, but I’m not a miracle worker.” Iwaizumi sighed through the receiver. “I wish I didn’t have to watch you on tv. Watching you play in person really is a different experience.”

 _I wish you could, too,_ Ushijima chimed mentally. Out loud, he gave a cryptic, “One day.”

“You bet your ass I will.” Ushijima could almost hear the grin in Iwaizumi’s voice. “You should get some sleep. They’re really trying to make a push for a better showing at the Games, so they’re gonna ride you pretty hard. Take care of yourself.”

A smile teased at Ushijima’s lip at the worry that had leached into the words. “I will. Have a good day at school, and tell Dad hello for me.”

“Anytime.” 

The line went dead, but Ushijima hadn’t been ready for the call to end yet. He wanted those few extra minutes of Iwaizumi’s rough voice, changing a little bit more every time they talked because of how much time he spent speaking English.

Ushijima puts his phone on the floor next to him and slouches back against the cinderblock wall. He couldn’t remember ever missing someone like this before. Sure, his old teammates were his friends and he wished he could see and talk to them more, but with Iwaizumi, it was more of an ache. Sometimes if they went a while without talking, Ushijima could feel it in his gut.

He swallowed hard and dialed a different number in a different part of the world. It sprang to life with a chipper, “Hello, hello!”

“It’s me,” Ushijima said simply.

Tendou hummed his agreement. “My caller ID seems to agree with you. Now, what are you doing up at this hour?”

“I don’t know what to do,” Ushijima admitted. “I’m not used to that.”

There was no reply for so long, Ushijima checked twice to make sure the call hadn’t dropped. However, it was still live and he accepted that something he said (or perhaps didn’t say) rendered Tendou speechless, a rare event.

Finally, Tendou said quietly, “It’s about Iwaizumi-kun, isn’t it?”

Ushijima’s eyes widened. “How did you know?”

A knowing chuckle tickles Ushijima’s ear. “Lucky guess. Considering when we talk, your two favorite subjects are volleyball and Iwaizumi-kun, it’s fair to assume that when you take out the common factor of volleyball, you’re talking about Iwaizumi-kun because he occupies a big chunk of your thoughts.

“Might I be right, Wakatoshi-kun?”

“I, uh —” Ushijima racked his brain for a rundown of his recent phone conversations with Tendou, and he definitely began to see the pattern. “Yes, it’s about Iwaizumi.”

“Ah. I thought so.” Tendou heaved a sigh and said, “So, you don’t know what to do about Iwaizumi-kun. What’s up?”

Ushijima outlined the way that, when he wasn’t otherwise occupied, his mind would sail across the Pacific to that same bedroom he had stayed in while visiting his father. It had been a place where he and Iwaizumi had talked about volleyball, about school, their friends, and everything in between.

It was Iwaizumi’s room now, having won over Utsui rapidly. Instead of Iwaizumi scraping by with a part-time job and potentially harming his studies, Utsui had offered it to Iwaizumi, who accepted with tears in his eyes. Of course, Iwaizumi hadn’t told him about that part, but Utsui always updated Ushijima about their mutual friend when they managed to find time to talk.

After Ushijima finished speaking, Tendou grew silent again. This time, Ushijima didn’t bother to check the line. It was a lot for him to process himself, and he had spent days, even years, dwelling on it. 

Laughter was the last reaction he expected. “Oh, I miss you so much, Wakatoshi-kun. Remember the conversation we had about you-know-what back in first year?” Ushijima winced at the memory of his first birds and the bees talk. “This is kind of like that. In an alternate universe where your mother isn’t insane, you might have understood this on your own.”

Ushijima groaned. “I’m not even sure I know what that means.” Tendou hummed a jaunty little tune while Ushijima simmered in anticipation. “Well?”

“Have you considered that your feelings for Iwaizumi-kun might be something different than the friend type ones?”

“That’s ridiculous.” Ushijima’s nose wrinkled at the thought of mooning over someone like the subject of an air-headed pop song. “Besides, I don’t even know if Iwaizumi likes men like that.”

“Then maybe you should find out.” Tendou clucked his tongue. “Besides, it’s your feelings we’re talking about here. Are you or are you not falling for Iwaizumi-kun?”

Ushijima turned over the information in his head, fitting different pieces of the puzzle together to see what fit. The picture at the end was one of him wanting to swim across the entire Pacific just so they could stroll along the edge of the water with bare feet, jumping a little bit when the water lapped a bit higher on their legs. It warmed him like the sun heated the sand, and it radiated through his entire being.

Perhaps the answer really was too simple to notice. “Do I tell him? It doesn’t feel right not to.”

“That’s up to you, Wakatoshi. Consider the possible outcomes, and take the road that makes the most sense to you.”

The rest of their conversation was far more banal, a rundown of their former teammates’ lives. Ushijima had an inkling that Tendou was trying to talk him down from agitation, and it was working..

When they disconnected, Ushijima scraped himself up and trod back to the dorms. He was tired to the bone, the sound of his snoring bunkmate not enough to keep him awake. 

Morning brought his decision along with it. He wasn’t going to tell Iwaizumi about his changing feelings. Instead of jeopardizing a valuable friendship, Ushijima would weather this niggling crush until it faded, and maybe when they were old men, he could tell Iwaizumi about it and wave it off as a folly of youth.


	2. Chapter 2

The Rio Olympics came and went, and as predicted by most of the sports pundits around the globe, Japan made a modest showing. Ushijima fared well, but their team was definitely missing pieces to make it truly competitive.

Once again, Ushijima’s thoughts on the matter brought him to the other side of the world.

When he arrived at the baggage claim, Ushijima’s breath caught at the sight of Iwaizumi. His shoulders were a little broader, his skin bronzed by the sun, and his hair almost stayed down. What hadn’t changed was the broad smile he offered when he spied Ushijima on the other side of the bag carousel. 

“Waka!” he cried, running around the carousel with his flip-flops slapping loudly on the tiled floor until he could barrel into Ushijima for a bear hug. “I’ve really missed you.”

The words were in English, but they sang in Ushijima’s chest nonetheless. Either that, or Iwaizumi had managed to squeeze the air out of his lungs. Regardless, his entire being embraced Iwaizumi’s presence, and he could feel the dopey smile on his lips while Iwaizumi led him out of the airport.

The air smelled just like he remembered.

Iwaizumi didn’t stop chattering (thankfully all in Japanese) until the taxi was halfway to Utsui’s house. Finally, he paused and said, “You haven’t said a word since you got here. You okay?”

Concern shone in Iwaizumi’s green eyes, and that pang in his gut tightened just a little bit more. “I’m fine. It was a long flight.” 

“Good, because I wanna make you dinner when we get home.”

Though the thought of food didn’t appeal greatly after thirteen hours of queasiness, Ushijima certainly looked forward to the company. “I’d like that.”

They arrived to find the house empty, with Utsui speaking at a sports medicine conference nearby. As much as Ushijima wanted to see his father, he relished this handful of hours with Iwaizumi.

Ushijima watched in quiet awe at an umbrella-topped table while Iwaizumi cooked an entire meal on a barbecue in the backyard. It didn’t take long for the scent of cooking meat to prod his hunger back to life.

The meal was tasty and robust, and exactly what Ushijima needed to chase away jet lag. “Thank you. That was delicious.”

Iwaizumi’s cheeks turned pink at his words. “Thanks!” he squeaked half an octave higher than usual. “After getting my protein in shake form most of the time, it’s nice to get some the old fashioned way.”

“Understandable,” Ushijima mumbled as he watched Iwaizumi. Something was strange in his demeanor — fidgeting, averted eyes, and worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. If he didn’t know any better, he would say Iwaizumi was nervous.

As soon as he noticed it, however, it was already gone. Iwaizumi beamed at him and started gathering up the dishes. “You mind putting these in the house while I clean the grill?”

“Of course.” Ushijima complied, as well as washed them. Iwaizumi found him toweling them dry soon after. “Thank you again for dinner.”

“You didn’t have to do that.” Iwaizumi moved to pluck a plate from Ushijima’s grasp, but Ushijima deftly dodged. “You’re the guest of honor, dude. I should be doing stuff for you.”

Ushijima chuckled. “I doubt a few dishes will kill me.” He finished up the last plate and put it away in the cabinet, right where he remembered them being. “Do we have plans for the evening?”

“Only if you want to have plans.” Iwaizumi took Ushijima’s slightly pruning hand and chuckled. “C’mon, let’s figure out what we’re gonna do.”

The contact rattled all the thoughts out of Ushijima’s head. Every brain cell was fixed on the way Iwaizumi’s grip brooked no argument. Forthright and firm, just like him. 

In the spare room, while Ushijima changed into warm weather attire, Iwaizumi clicked away on his laptop to find them a diversion. Halfway through peeling off a sock, Iwaizumi declared, “Oh, that’s perfect.”

When Ushijima spied the source of Iwaizumi’s enthusiasm, his brow furrowed and he frowned. “Why that?”

Iwaizumi shrugged. “It’s fun, we’re both gonna suck at it, and it’s supposed to be super relaxing.”

Ushijima doubted how much value he would find in a beginner’s pottery workshop, but the shine in Iwaizumi’s eyes was too strong to ignore. “All right. Let’s make a mockery of an entire artform.”

“Now you’re getting it.” 

An hour later, swathed in cotton smocks, they stood side by side in front of identical pottery wheels, where twin lumps of clay awaited their hands. 

Every word the instructor said left his head as soon as it entered, but Ushijima watched Iwaizumi, who listened intently. He hadn’t been the kind of person to look at his friends’ notes for class, but he was willing to make an exception in this case.

Once they were left to their own devices, Ushijima trained his gaze on Iwaizumi’s strong, steady hands. A crude shape of a bowl started to take form. “That’s very good.”

“It’s not the worst thing I’ve ever made, I guess,” Iwaizumi muttered, the tip of his tongue sticking out of the side of his mouth as he concentrated on every motion. Without looking up, he said, “You know, that clay isn’t gonna shape itself. Get your hands dirty, Waka.”

At Iwaizumi’s insistence, Ushijima touched the clay for the first time. It was cool and slimy, but not unpleasantly so. Turning on his wheel, he slowly began to work the clay.

Entranced by the sensation of the clay yielding under his touch, Ushijima focused on nothing else — not even Iwaizumi — until something strongly resembling a vase took shape. When he stepped back to examine it from a different angle, Ushijima’s eyes widened when he saw not only Iwaizumi, but half the class staring at him. “What?”

“Uh, holy crap,” Iwaizumi said in English. He leaned in closer to inspect Ushijima’s work. “Are you sure you’ve never done this before?”

“I have not.” He hunched over to mimic Iwaizumi’s stance. “Is it that bad?”

Iwaizumi gawked at him. “What, are you kidding? This is really friggin good!”

The instructor, a middle aged woman wearing a mishmash of clothing in colors that didn’t match, beamed at him. “That’s a wonderful piece you have.” She pointed out various aspects of the vase and praised him for techniques he couldn’t begin to comprehend — a combination of lacking both subject knowledge and English vocabulary.

Bewildered, the audience dispersed and left Ushijima with a pile of tools he was merely guessing the function of and more questions than answers.

By the end of class, Ushijima had a shapely vase with an engraved lotus flower Ushijima made from memory with one of the sculpting tools. They left their pieces (the good, the bad, and the ugly alike) in the instructor’s custody for drying, and departed. 

Iwaizumi took a deep breath of the warm evening air. “I’m actually super looking forward to picking up your vase. It turned out really nice.” 

The comment coaxed a smile from Ushijima. “If you like it, you can have it. It’s way too big for my luggage anyway.”

“I’d like that.” Iwaizumi hooked his arm with Ushijima and sighed. “Now you’re gonna have to send me flowers here and there so I can keep it busy.”

Ushijima stumbled to a stop, blinking at the idea of sending Iwaizumi flowers. What if he got the wrong ones that helped Iwaizumi realize the extent of Ushijima’s feelings? What if he got the wrong ones and they ended up being I Hate You flowers? He frowned. “I’ll have to do some research first.”

“What? No!” Iwaizumi dissolved into laughter. “Don’t worry about any of that flower meaning bullshit. That crap isn’t real. If you get someone flowers, it should be because the flower makes you think of them or maybe because you know they’ll think they look nice.”

“All right.” Ushijima was certain it wasn’t that simple, but he was more interested in the way Iwaizumi’s entire face animated at the thought of giving a gift like that. 

The rest of the walk back to the house was spent in a companionable silence, but Iwaizumi didn’t relinquish his hold on Ushijima’s arm until they were shuffling through the front door. A loud yawn rattled out of Iwaizumi seconds later. “Oh, man, if I’m this tired, you have to be hella exhausted.”

Ushijima nodded, swallowing a yawn of his own. “A little.”

“Let’s get you settled in then.” Iwaizumi propelled him through the door to the second bedroom. “If you need anything, I’ll be on the couch.”

“What?” Ushijima looked back and forth between Iwaizumi and the room obviously littered with his belongings. “But this is your room. You should sleep here. I can sleep on the couch.”

Iwaizumi’s eyes narrowed and he pushed Ushijima onto his seat on the mattress. “Nope. Waka, you’re a world class athlete. You have to take care of yourself.”

“But what about you?” Ushijima stared down at his hands, awash in a slurry of conflicting emotions. The strongest one was guilt — not just for Iwaizumi giving up his room, but also because Ushijima was dubious as to the amount of sleep he would actually get knowing that Iwaizumi slept there, did his homework there, and a few other things that made his cheeks flame at the thought. “It’s not fair.”

Rolling his eyes, Iwaizumi huffed. “You’re not gonna let this go, are you?” Ushijima shook his head. “Fine. If it means that much to you, we can share. Then when you get sick of me being all weird and clingy in my sleep, we can do this the normal way and I can sleep on the couch. Either way, your ass is spending the night in this bed whether you like it or not.”

“Okay,” Ushijima blurted. It was absolutely a terrible idea. What surge of insanity prompted him to agree to it, he had no idea, but all he had to do was survive until Iwaizumi fell asleep to sneak out to the couch.

Iwaizumi smirked at him. “You’re gonna regret that in ten minutes flat.”

_ I regret it now, _ Ushijima thinks wryly. However, the damage was done and after a long flight and a full afternoon, he had no will to argue. Instead, he fished out some sleepwear from his luggage. 

When he turned to change in the bathroom (Americans were weird like that, and Iwaizumi had been living there for a few years), Ushijima’s entire face shone bright red when he caught sight of cotton shorts sliding up over Iwaizumi’s bare bottom. He spun around and trained his gaze on the central air register on the floor next to him while he did the same. 

His flush deepened when he noticed both of them opted for thin shorts and no shirt. Ushijima blindly groped for the shirt he had just dropped on the desk chair nearby. “I’ll just —” He jammed it over his head and struggled to find the arm holes. 

After he managed to wrangle the garment back on, Iwaizumi was staring at him with a raised brow. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’ve been super weird since we got home.”

“Fine,” Ushijima choked, and he slid onto the side of the bed without the alarm clock, taking up as little of the queen sized mattress as his large frame would allow.

Iwaizumi followed suit, and it only took a few moments before Ushijima already started to give in to the rigors of the day. The house was silent save for the hum of the air conditioning, and with heavy eyelids, Ushijima burrowed his face into the pillow. 

The sky was still dark through the window when Ushijima jolted awake. Hands that were not his own crept around his waist and strong arms pulled him close. He could feel the whisper of Iwaizumi’s breath on the back of his neck, the warmth lighting up every nerve in his body.

He didn’t move. Not because he was physically incapable of it — Iwaizumi was strong, but not that strong — but because he didn’t want to. This was the first time he had ever shared a bed with another person to his knowledge. However, he had a much deeper understanding of why it was classified as an intimate experience. 

It took what felt like forever to go back to sleep, but Ushijima did so without disturbing Iwaizumi’s rest or hold on him. The sun glared through the window by the time he woke up again, this time to Iwaizumi’s bulk draped on his chest with a little trickle of drool wetting his t-shirt. Hair stuck in all different directions, and long dark lashes rested on the smooth skin under Iwaizumi’s eyes.

Ushijima wondered if maybe he was still asleep, but when he closed his eyes and opened them again, Iwaizumi was still splayed out on top of him and he still had no desire to wake him.

Nearly an hour passed before Iwaizumi stirred, and he looked up at Ushijima with one barely opened and bleary eye. “What time is it?”

“About eight-thirty,” Ushijima offered after letting his gaze stray from Iwaizumi for the first time since he woke up. “Did you sleep well?”

The clouds in Iwaizumi’s eyes started to lift, and with a yelp he removed himself from atop Ushijima. “Shit, why didn’t you wake me up?”

Ushijima stretched his arms over his head and groaned. “What for? I was fairly warned, and I slept just fine.” It wasn’t a lie, he mused, but more of a sliver of a truth covered by a larger chunk of a different kind of truth. “I can make breakfast if you like. I’m not much of a cook so it’ll be simple, but I don’t mind.”

Iwaizumi’s eyes bored into him, and he made no indication that he heard what Ushijima had said. Ushijima frowned. “Hajime, are you okay?”

“Uh, Waka, I don’t know how to say this delicately, but I think I might have, uh —” Iwaizumi’s cheeks flamed and he slapped his hands over his face. “I think I might’ve given you a hickey in my sleep.”

Ushijima raised a brow. “A what? Hee-kee?”

A snort came from behind Iwaizumi’s palms. “I forgot, you’ve never heard that word before.” He sat on the edge of the bed and dropped his hands in his lap with a loud  _ slap. _ “Kisumaku.”

“Oh.” The word sank in, and Ushijima sat bolt upright. “Oh!” His fingers probed around the collar of his shirt as if he could feel the mark. Nothing felt amiss except for Iwaizumi’s horrified expression. With no idea what he was supposed to do or say, Ushijima shrugged. “It happens.”

Iwaizumi growled under his breath. “Damn it, I’m so sorry. I usually sleep with a body pillow for obvious reasons, but there wasn’t room and I thought you’d have kicked me out in like ten minutes and —”

“It’s fine,” Ushijima rasped, bustling out of the room to use the bathroom on the other side of the house. Once inside, it didn’t take more than a second to identify the mark in the mirror.

A pinkish-purple bruise blossomed on his collarbone, and the sight of it made Ushijima inhale sharply. All through high school, he had spied a few of these on his teammates in the locker room, but he had never had one before, nor had he wanted one. But looking at it now, eyes riveted to the spot, something in his belly ached. 

He was marked in the way one marks a lover, and he liked it.

Finally shaking out those roiling thoughts, Ushijima took a cool shower and hoped Iwaizumi would be in a better mood when he got out.


	3. Chapter 3

There was no such luck for an improved disposition, however. In the kitchen, Iwaizumi rifled through the refrigerator, slammed the door shut without taking anything out, and swore. “How the hell did I forget to pick up milk?”

“I can make a run for it if you’d like,” Ushijima offered. Iwaizumi spun around at the sound of his voice, and his face twisted into an emotion Ushijima couldn’t quite identify at the sight of him with nothing but a towel slung around his hips. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

Iwaizumi slumped into a chair at the kitchen table and buried his face in his hands. “No, man, I am _not_ all right. All kinds of shit is swirling around in my head and I don’t know how to make it shut up so I can think.”

“Ah,” Ushijima said. He understood the feeling, even if the words were nigh unintelligible. “I’ll get dressed and walk to the store.”

“No, you don’t have to. I just —” Iwaizumi looked up once more, only to immediately jerk his head down on his folded arms. “What the fuck is wrong with me?”

Ushijima had no clue what to say to Iwaizumi, so he didn’t. Instead, he did what he said he would and made a quick trip to a nearby convenience store for a carton of milk. He didn’t meet the cashier’s eyes after her eyes landed on the blotch of purple skin peeking out from under the collar of his t-shirt.

Almost twenty minutes later, he returned to find Iwaizumi’s mood almost completely reversed, humming while he pushed food around in a sizzling skillet.

“Thanks for that,” he said, shooting Ushijima a broad smile as the milk made its way into the fridge. “Sorry I got all weird. It’s definitely a ‘me’ problem, and it won’t happen again.”

“It’s fine,” Ushijima half-lied. While he had no intention of asking, he burned with curiosity of what could have sent his usually level-headed friend into a tailspin. “What’s for breakfast?”

Iwaizumi deeply inhaled the steam wafting from the pan and grinned. “Bacon scramble and hash browns.”

“I know what one of those things are,” Ushijima said, a smile teasing his lips. “I look forward to it.”

Not long later, the two of them were slouched on the couch watching ESPN while shoveling greasy, hearty, delicious fare down their gullets. The national team’s nutritionists would have had a stroke knowing what he was eating, but Ushijima didn’t care. 

It was comfort, it was warm — everything that reminded him of Iwaizumi.

The rest of the morning was spent with Iwaizumi studying out loud, talking his way through his coursework in a blend of English and Japanese while bending Ushijima’s limbs every which way to demonstrate each subject. 

By the time lunch hit, his entire body was so languid and malleable that Ushijima could scarcely work up the energy to scrape himself off the yoga mat in the middle of the floor to peck at the salad greens and smoothies Iwaizumi prepared for them both.

After that, they took a bus to the airport to welcome back Utsui, who was flying back into John Wayne Airport that afternoon. Ushijima’s fingers wouldn’t stay still on his lap when the airport started to sprout on the horizon. 

He talked to his father here and there on the phone and occasionally on Facetime, but it had been years since he had been able to shake the man’s hand, to indulge in a back-slapping hug or two he barely remembered from being a kid.

A short visit a couple of years ago had made him crave things he hadn’t in a long time, and within an hour, he would be surrounded by it for a blissful handful of days.

Through the throngs of people at the baggage claim, even in this country where both Ushijima and his father weren’t at least a head taller than almost everyone, Iwaizumi spotted Utsui right away. Waving widely, Iwaizumi called out over the crowd, “Taka-san!”

Utsui waved back, but he halted when he saw Ushijima. Their eyes met over the bag carousel, and both of them moved in unison to skirt around it and meet each other for a strong embrace.

“I’ve missed you, son,” Utsui murmured into Ushijima’s shoulder. “It’s really good to see you.”

“Yeah,” Ushijima rasped, throat thick with ill-used emotions. “I missed you too, Dad.”

Iwaizumi wasn’t far behind, waiting for Utsui’s suitcase while father and son clung to each other in a rare public display of affection. Once he had it in one hand, he used the other to close around Ushijima’s wrist. “You two probably have lots of catching up to do.”

“We do,” Ushijima agreed, and they headed out to the curb side by side to catch a taxi. 

The entire way back to the house, Ushijima patiently answered all his father’s myriad of questions about what it was like to play at the Olympics. It had been a dream for both of them, so Ushijima didn’t mind trying to put in the words the rush he got from battling the best players in the world head to head even if he hadn’t won.

The good cheer spilled over into the house after they disembarked, and Ushijima couldn’t stop smiling while Iwaizumi bullied Utsui into a well-used leather recliner and plied him with a large glass of iced tea.

“Calm down, Hajime,” Utsui said with a chuckle, swatting away Iwaizumi’s looming presence. “I’m not going to keel over and you damn well know it.”

Iwaizumi frowned and crossed his arms. “You know what the doctor said. You have to take it easy for a while.”

At the word ‘doctor’, Ushijima’s eyes widened. “What are you talking about?”

Glaring at Utsui, Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. “You said you were going to tell him.” At Utsui’s heavy sigh, Iwaizumi turned to Ushijima. “He had a pretty nasty bout of pneumonia a couple of months ago. He’s supposed to be careful while his lung capacity builds back up, and somehow _I’m_ the bad guy when I bring it up.”

The words gnaw at Ushijima’s gut. He didn’t know a whole lot about pneumonia except it was something that happened mostly to older people, but the idea that his father, who didn’t look a day older than he had last time they met in person, could end up with such an illness shook his entire being.

“Oh, it wasn’t that bad.” Utsui sipped his tea and smiled over the rim. “I’ve been a good sport about you mothering me, but remember which of us is an actual doctor.”

“Aren’t you the one who always says doctors are the worst patients?” Ushijima interjected, and the comment rousted a wheezing belly laugh from Iwaizumi, and earned him a brisk clap on the shoulder from Utsui across the end table. 

“Good to see my suffering brings you amusement.” The admonishment was eschewed by a chortle, and the uneasiness oozed out of Ushijima. “Now, what have you two been doing to keep busy?” 

Iwaizumi gushed about their evening with pottery, glowing while he praised Ushijima’s amateur efforts at the craft. At the mention of artistry, Utsui’s eyes widened, which ground Iwaizumi’s enthused chatter to a halt. “What was that look?”

Utsui looked back and forth between Ushijima and Iwaizumi. “Wakatoshi was always one of the best in his primary school at arts and crafts. I’m glad to see you haven’t left that behind completely.”

Ushijima blushed at the praise. “I didn’t know you remembered. I draw sometimes when I need to keep my mind off things. It’s . . . nice.”

The serious mood already dissipating, Iwaizumi slipped out of the room to start dinner while Ushijima posed his own questions to Utsui. “How was your conference?”

“Long and boring, mostly.” Utsui rolled his eyes. “Somehow, ninety degrees is too hot to golf for these northern guys.”

Mind whirring into action, Ushijima’s brow knit when he converted the temperature to celsius. “These people are doctors?”

“My thoughts exactly.” Utsui set aside his drink and leaned forward on his knees to regard Ushijima closely, riveted by the purple spot at the base of his neck.. “And how are _you,_ kiddo? Have you finally started seeing someone, or are you still married to volleyball?”

A crash and a muffled curse came from the kitchen, and Ushijima couldn’t hide his blush knowing he wouldn’t be able to answer that question honestly. He pulled up the collar of his shirt as far as it would stretch. “I’m not really in the market for that right now.”

It had the virtue of being more or less true. His dad didn’t need to know he couldn’t even consider the idea of dating someone because nobody would be the right one for him because none of them were Iwaizumi. 

Utsui’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, is that right?” His forefinger tapped on his jawline as he stared down Ushijima. “I could’ve sworn you had a thing for —”

“I’m going to see if Hajime needs any help in the kitchen,” Ushijima blurted before he bustled out of the room.

HIs nerves were still rattling when he slipped through the kitchen entirely and headed for the backyard instead. He dropped onto one of the deck chairs and closed his eyes. 

Being nervous and cagey was not a familiar state for him, and he didn’t like it at all. Just a few years before, he wouldn’t have hesitated to admit his feelings about someone to their face, and whatever happened was what it was. 

His teenage self never would have considered the idea that retaining the friendship he enjoyed with Iwaizumi was too important to risk for the sake of something he wasn’t even close to understanding. 

It wasn’t long before his racing thoughts were derailed by the screen door slapping shut behind Iwaizumi. Carrying two beer bottles, he sat next to Ushijima and set one of the bottles in front of him. “Corona for your thoughts?”

“What?” The words made no sense to Ushijima, but he started to get a pretty good idea the longer Iwaizumi stared at him expectantly. “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say.”

Iwaizumi squeezed juice from a lime wedge into the neck of the bottle and tossed the rest over his shoulder. “You know what I want to know. Nobody says they don’t have a thing for someone and then run out of a room like their pants are on fire when someone tries to insinuate otherwise.”

“Oh.” Ushijima didn’t know how to answer that question, so he focused his attention on the bottle in front of him instead. He’d never tried this brand before, so he busied himself with mimicking Iwaizumi’s actions with the lime like it was the most convoluted thing in the world. Finally, he looked up and Iwaizumi’s gaze had not budged. 

Ushijima swallowed hard. “I don’t know what to say,” he admitted. “It’s complicated.”

“I know the feeling.” Iwaizumi took a long drag from his beer and slouched into the chair with a groan. “Imagine knowing you can’t do shit about it because anything you do would just make everything worse and it’s not worth it.”

“Because even if you wish that person were more than a friend, the idea of them being less of a friend if they reject you is the worst case scenario.” Iwaizumi bolted upright in his seat and gawked at Ushijima. “Yes, I can relate.”

Iwaizumi nodded. “Yeah, I guess you can.” His fingers fiddled with the bottle until he finally asked, “If you could say something to this person you like, what would it be?”

The words flowed out of Ushijima without hesitation. “I wish I could make you understand.”

“Yeah.” Iwaizumi stared at his drink and repeated, “Yeah.”

Wheels started turning in Ushijima’s head, and loose ends began to tie together. “When you had that —” He had no idea what word to assign to it in any language. Instead, he continued, “When you had that, um, thing, you were thinking about the person you like, weren’t you?”

Iwaizumi didn't look at him at all when he admitted, “Yeah, I was.”

“Oh.” An unfamiliar pang of envy flared in Ushijima’s belly of whoever it was whose skin begged for Iwaizumi’s touch. He had resigned himself to the fact that that person would never be him, but hearing it out loud was like being slapped by it all over again.

However, seeing Iwaizumi deflated, hurt, and embarrassed was worse. “Whoever it is, they’re very lucky. If you want to talk about it, I’m not very good at these things but I can listen.”

With that, he finished his drink and headed back into the house and checked on the makings of dinner until Iwaizumi finally returned. “Thanks for that.”

“Of course.” 

Iwaizumi didn’t specify whether he was referring to keeping an eye on dinner or his offer for a shoulder to lean on, but Ushijima didn’t ask. Instead, he slipped back into the living room where Utsui eyed him like he could see directly into Ushijima’s soul. “That was . . . interesting.”

“Do you need a refill?” Ushijima interjected, staring at Utsui’s glass of iced tea and anywhere but his father’s startlingly knowing gaze.

Utsui chuckled and shook his head. “Ah, so that’s how it is. I see.”

Ushijima doused the urge to rebut, instead reaching to turn on the television, which was still set to ESPN. “Oh, that baseball team you hate lost again yesterday,” he said, eager to deflect attention.

Utsui’s dislike of the Los Angeles Dodgers won out, and the two of them talked about baseball in a blend of Japanese and English until Iwaizumi beckoned them into the kitchen for dinner. Iwaizumi guffawed at Utsui’s thunderous expression while talking about the Dodgers’ controversial rookie. “Ha! If I had a dollar every time you griped about Yasiel Puig, I could buy this house.”

“He’s repugnant!” 

“Whatever you say, Taka-san.” Iwaizumi pushed a platter of sliced roast toward the two of them and shook his head. “You know the rules. No baseball related crankiness at the table. This is a volleyball house.”

With an eye roll, Utsui guffawed. “Damn you and your long memory.”

While he watched his father and friend tease each other, a pang of longing clenched in Ushijima’s belly. It reminded him of life in the dorms at Shiratorizawa, of times when his teammates interacted with their siblings after games. 

They were like family, and Ushijima was the odd one out.

The pile of food in front of him lost its appeal, but Ushijima grumbled his way through a blessing and tucked into it nonetheless. It tasted good and was well prepared, he’d had a light lunch, and Iwaizumi had worked hard on it. 

It wasn’t until someone cleared their throat that Ushijima realized both Iwaizumi and Utsui had stopped talking, and they were staring at him. “What?”

“If you squeeze your fork any tighter, you’re gonna bend it in half,” Iwaizumi said.

Ushijima looked down at his hand, eyes widening when he finally noticed his white-knuckle grip on his utensil. “Oh. Sorry.”

Neither of them commented, for which Ushijima was grateful. He didn’t know how — or want to — explain to either of them that he was jealous of how well they got along. It was an embarrassing thought to harbor, let alone put into words.

Dinner ended quietly, and Ushijima occupied himself with doing the dishes while Iwaizumi bullied Utsui back into the recliner. When he returned, the evening’s baseball game was in the bottom of the second. He joined Iwaizumi on the couch at the safest distance he could without being obvious in his discomfort.

When the game ended, Utsui bade them both goodnight and retreated to his bedroom, and for the first time in a long time, Ushijima and Iwaizumi were alone together and Ushijima was uncomfortable.

He wasn’t the only one.

Toes twitching and fingers wriggling, Iwaizumi’s entire body radiated tension until he said, “You’re weirded out, aren’t you?”

“I —” Ushijima knew Iwaizumi was referring to the marks that still littered his collarbone, His discomfort had nothing to do with that and everything to do with wanting something he couldn’t have. “I have a lot on his mind.” It was vague, but it had the virtue of being true.

“I feel that.” Iwaizumi slouched forward and groaned. “You still wanna hear about me and my ridiculous crush?”

 _No._ “Yes.” 

Iwaizumi’s nervous twitching stopped, and he flung himself back into the fluffy recesses of the couch. “So this person I like, I used to think they were perfect, but in an annoying way. I mean, how am I supposed to deal with someone who is everything I ever wanted to be but they do it better?”

Perfect. Annoying. Ushijima swallowed hard at those words, because he knew exactly who they were meant to describe. 

Iwaizumi had a thing for Oikawa.

“That person is lucky, then. I know what it’s like to change like that, and it’s hard.” Even though it wasn’t about him, Ushijima couldn’t help but embrace the catharsis that came with releasing those old feelings. Maybe if he had been more conscientious about other people in high school, Iwaizumi would be thinking about him and not his best friend.

“And what about you?” Iwaizumi swatted Ushijima’s arm. “Who is this magic unicorn of yours?”

Ushijima shook his head. “I don’t know what that means, but they’re different from anyone I’ve ever known. I didn’t think so before, but I learned more from this person than I never learned from a textbook. I just don’t know how to say it.”

Iwaizumi grew rigid next to him, his breaths right and metered as if they were all he could think about. “I see.” He let out a wry laugh. “What a pair we are, eh?”

“Indeed.” 

They sat in silence for a long while before Iwaizumi broke the stalemate. “I’m assuming after last night, you’re cool with me sleeping on the couch now.”

Ushijima didn’t know whether he was dreading or looking forward to the idea of spending another sight sleeping next to Iwaizumi. It wasn’t about what he wanted, though. After Iwaizumi’s borderline meltdown that morning over the love bite incident, Ushijima didn’t have the right to make that decision for both of them. “Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“Cool. I’m good out here” 

Quiet settled again, but this time Ushijima was the one to break it with a rattling yawn. “Excuse me. I think I’m still jet-lagged.” He stood and headed for the bedroom, grabbing the body pillow from the closet and the soft cotton blanket draped over the back of Iwaizumi’s desk chair. 

Iwaizumi accepted them with a tight smile. “Thanks. Hopefully you get a better night’s sleep this time.”

After the weird day they had had together, Ushijima didn’t think that was going to happen, but he nodded anyway. “Good night, Hajime.”

“‘Night, Waka.” 

Crawling into bed, Ushijima stared out the window while he willed his brain to quiet itself so he could sleep. He even grabbed the extra bed pillow and wrapped his arm around it. It brought Iwaizumi comfort, so it was worth a try.

He was unsuccessful because it only reminded him that a pillow was just a pillow, and not Iwaizumi.


End file.
